from Generica by BUNKS



Rock stars all over the world, drinking sixteen,
Relate through music, open house, people visiting,
Time for a change, can you grapple?
Hip-hop playing in the Sistine Chapel,
Heard souls were bought, knew it couldn’t be actual,
Classical was lost, art no longer magical,
Cats try to do this for the wrong reasons,
Opposite to mine, pour emotions on this mic,
Call it soul shine….
Do it for my love, do it for my self-control,
Creating from passion, I withhold,
It’s amazing how the universe unfolds,
Travel down a strange road to get where you’re going,
Opportunities, at last I’m pursuing,
Running in the wild, I’m a child with a mild mind state,
Feeling great till the day I reach the Golden Gates,
Figure out situations…
Write it down, illustrate, learning from mistakes,
Increase my pace in this race,
The chase is on…
The chase is on…
The chase is on…

We do this for the passion, we do this for the love,
Music runs with my tears and it flows with my blood,
We cling to the microphone to set our soul free,
Cause we’re trapped in a world that wasn’t meant for we.

Do you even realize what this actually means?
The commodification of mind, body, and soul,
The natives found the land but someone made them go,
You know the Trail of Tears, disease infested blankets,
Cortez destroyed the Aztecs, now their memories are ancient,
Capitalism buys your time, forced to live inside these lines,
Forced to build another zombie of a mind…
For years I have cried, tears backed by a dam,
Advertisements, propaganda, what defines a man?
Inside every office, in every plan, evil lurks,
White is said to be so pure but it’s tainted with dirt,
Sell your soul to the company, they’ll put you to work,
For minimum wage and no benefits, at least we got church,
But even they need your money, that’s how my pops got paid,
Welcome to America where hypocrisy’s made.

I’m destined for greater things than spitting about diamond rings,
Late in the night, my conscious, it screams,
Shattered dreams doused like mini light beams,
Cause no one wants to listen if you ain’t talking bling,
But I don’t give a damn if I don’t sell a thing,
I’ma keep making songs, if only for me,
Rescue me, if I ever go astray,
And stop putting thought into the words that I say,
I’m always looking for a better way to make it through my everyday,
It seems my thoughts have drifted toward the MilkyWay,
I hear ‘em say I long to be a kid again,
And never worry what changes with the wind,
I’m so sick of the shallowness we bathe ourselves in,
I’d give it all back for ignorance again,
Forget Paris H., forget Pac Man,
Forget Rosie, who’s this Trump man?
Forget Al-Qaeda, forget George Bush,
Forget all this bull, I wish that we could


from Generica, released October 7, 2008
Produced by J.Smo of BUNKS
Written by J.Smo of BUNKS, J.Gro, DJ
Recorded at One Mic Studios, Murfreesboro, Tennessee


all rights reserved



J.Smo of BUNKS Sacramento, California

J.Smo has been releasing music independently since 1999, originally as part of BUNKS (Manchester, Tennessee). Now a father of 3, husband, CMO, COO, musicpreneur, educator and jedi-of-many-trades, J.Smo continues to share his journey and thoughts while facing inner demons head on through rhyme. ... more

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